


The Child of Fett

by KatyrinBupboare



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Manticore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatyrinBupboare/pseuds/KatyrinBupboare
Summary: Manticores aren't meant to be pets; they're guard animals.Yet somehow, through a series of headache-inducing problems for Jango, both Fetts find themselves with a tiny cub for a companion.  And suddenly, Boba isn't so lonely anymore.Read to find out what happens when a jaded bounty hunter, a clever boy, and a mischievous cub are blended together.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Jango Fett
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Because time is a drop in the ocean, and you cannot measure off one drop against another to see which one is bigger, which one is smaller."
> 
> -Elif Shafak

Boba Fett knew he was special-had known for many years. His buir had chosen him out of thousands of others to be his sole heir, to be the only one with free will, with a growth speed at a natural level. He was unique, special, and his buir never missed a chance to remind him.

Yet Boba didn’t feel very special as he sat alone on the balcony watching the clones learn to work together. He knew he should like being singled out, but a deep part of him that he’d never admit to his buir longed for companionship, for a partner to spend time with, to pick locks and learn how to fire a blaster together. Despite being independent and responsible, he was still only a little boy of seven, and a small part of him envied the vod for their camaraderie.

The clone traced the moving figures with his eyes, scanning for inconsistencies among the dozens. It was a common thing he did when school and training was over, and just about the only thing to do around there. None of the newbies were very different, but there was always the slightly smaller or shorter one, or a shade darker hair. Once Boba saw a clone with bright blue eyes instead of the usual chocolate brown; which was rather unique.

Boba ruffled a hand through his hair like he saw his buir do when stressed and went back through the balcony doors to the quarters the two of them shared. His father was currently giving the Kaminoans the yearly dose of his blood, and Boba knew he'd more than likely not return from the medical bay till early tomorrow morning. The blood loss always made him woozy, and he disliked showing weakness in front of the clones. And Boba understood that, he really did, he just wished he didn't need to sleep alone in their quarters.

The lonely boy heated up a meal packet and poked it around with the prongs of his fork. If his father were here he'd most likely reprimand Boba for playing with his potatoes, but he just couldn't bring himself to eat. Once it had gotten cold he swept the nearly-full tin into the garbage bin and collapsed onto his bunk, face buried deep in his pillow.

He really wanted a friend.

\---

The Kaminoans prided themselves on two things; the technology to clone any living thing, and their secrecy enforced with heavy security. Not even the human clones and the original, Jango Fett, ever considered that there could be other species copied throughout the facility.

However, the pride of their second secret was about to go down the drain. A manticore cub, with large green eyes and clumsy paws had fallen into a cart of laundry and had been unable to claw his way to freedom before the cart had been wheeled away from the Dens. When at last he'd reached the top, he'd slipped on the metal rim and dropped like a rock to the shiny floors below, bruising the toes of his front paws. Whimpering, the cub limped down the hall, ears pinned back and inexperienced nose sniffing the air for his siblings. When nothing came back save the sharp scent of cleaning fluids that covered the older smells, the cub nosed his way through a swinging door, yelping as it caught his scorpion tail and sending painful stings up his spine.

It wasn't long before the faint smell of uneaten meat reached his abused nose. Instantly perking up, the manticore pushed open another door, keeping his tail safe, and followed the scent to a bin in the corner. Like everything else, it was pure white in color and beyond slippery, but he was starving and wasn't about to give up. His tail and claws tried to poke holes, and when that didn't work he squeezed between it and the wall and slowly inched it to the arm of some sort of chair. The chair itself was simple enough to leap onto, and from there he put two paws halfway down the bin and gobbled up the scraps of chicken within.

The last piece was beyond his reach, and he leaned closer...closer...

Thud! The cub had fallen right into the bin, its four smooth walls blocking his vision. After several seconds thinking through his options he shoved all his weight to one side, which tipped the bin precariously but not enough, then shoved it again and again till it dropped on its side to the floor, the manticore tumbling out with it. He bent down to eat the piece, yet snapped his head back to the door when it opened, showing a tall, dark haired human on the other side.

Chicken forgotten, the cub pinned his ears back and hissed, tail jabbing threateningly. The tall human narrowed his eyes at the unwanted visitor and grabbed the nearest viroblade leaning against the wall. Still spitting, the manticore cub flared his too-weak wings and reared up on his hind legs, like he'd seen the other manticores do. It was rather ineffective, however, seeing as the cub stood only a foot tall.

The man swung the viroblade, which the cub dodged and galloped for the nearest doorway, the man hot on his heals. Without thinking twice, he ducked under a bunk where another human was laying down on. He tucked his wings and tail to his flanks, stepping from side to side to avoid the jabs with the viroblade.

Muffled voices came from above him, and the bunk he was under was suddenly raised from the floor and tipped to one side. A blanket obscured his vision, and he panicked and ran in all directions, tripping over his feet and tangling himself up in the blanket even worse. Eventually he fell on his side and found he was unable to stumble back up. Arms wrapped around him and hoisted him into the air, pushing back the cloth covering his face and letting air reach his lungs.

His lips peeled back around his teeth at the smaller human putting the bunk back onto the floor. His ears pinned to his skull as he realized that made the tall man the one who was holding him swaddled in the blanket. The smaller one left and came back with a chunk of chicken in one hand, and the manticore quickly lost his feral look and snatched up the pieces. Though he could not understand Basic, he listened with one ear to the words the two humans were saying.

"...is he?"

"A manticore, I think, probably one from Genosis or Jakku. I've seen adults in the Underworld, but never a cub. He looks 'bout five, six months."

"Can we keep him?"

A long pause. The manticore chewed on a corner of the blanket, the meat having run out.

"Keep? They aren't pets, Boba, they're used as guard animals. No, I'll fly to Bespin and sell him there. Probably get a good 80,000 credits for one this young. Maybe 90 if we're lucky."

Another pause.

"May I hold him, buir?"

The manticore felt himself being shifted and lowered, and two smaller arms were replaced for the bigger ones. He twisted to look up at the kid, blinking his deep green eyes. Funny, he smelled like coffee beans and damp grass; the same as the taller one. The cub nudged his nose into the child's shirt and licked his palm. Yep, definitely the same. The child hugged him closer to his chest.

"Aw, he's so cute! Can we please keep him, buir? We can train him to guard the ship!"

A deep sigh. "Boba, manticores aren't meant to do that. In a few years he'll be too big to even go up the ramp, and then what do we do with him? We'll have to leave him behind on some planet, but he won't have adapted to rely completely on the land."

Boba tucked the manticore closer to his chest and looked up at Jango. "Please, buir? I promise I'll feed and clean up after him, and I do have lots of free time."

Jango swiveled his jaw around and looked from his son he treasured above all else and the tiny animal with stubs where the canines would sprout out. The rational part of him was screaming that he was too lenient, that the beast would cause trouble along the road-trouble he would have to deal with, and not his prized son. The smuggler part of him wanted the mountains of credits he would undoubtedly receive, especially with such a young and easily trained one of them. Manticores could live up to five hundred standard years and yet only have one or two their entire lifespan. Many died before reaching adulthood, with too weak of an immune system. They were rare, cubs few and far between, and the chances of happening upon one digging through his trash would be inconceivable. They were treasured, fragile, and cubs were never left alone.

Yet the parent in him, the part that raised his clone and heir from infantry, that picked and named Boba out of thousands of other possible candidates, that gave up blood every year since for his child, suddenly felt conflict with the two other parts that had always worked in perfect harmony. And that concerned him.

As an ik'aad, Boba had been easy to care for. He never cried, he never woke Jango up in the middle of the night, and he was independent yet obedient. Until his legs could hold him upright he'd stumble around their quarters, getting whatever he needed when he needed it. As long as Jango put a bottle of milk and bowl of nutri-paste on the table before going to bed, Boba didn't wake him for breakfast. When he grew into an adiik, Boba was always back in time for dinner and kept his bedroom clean. He worked hard on the Mandalorian culture and fighting that Jango taught him, as well as read the books Jango gave him for studying. He was polite and clever, with Jango only having to say things once to get Boba to understand and carry out to perfection.

The rational part of Jango knew that this was not appropriate behavior for a child of his age. Though he was pleased, he was concerned as well. The Holonet said children should be dissatisfied and messy, noisy and always wanting to play-and Boba had never, ever, gone against his wishes before. And that worried him.

Now, however, Boba was asking(asking!)to keep the stray! The Boba of old would have taken Jango's words as law and never objected, yet his son had pleaded three times over. Perhaps this was the rebellious spirit the Holonet had warned new parents of. If it was, Jango didn't want to stifle it after so long of waiting.

Jango rubbed the back of his neck and gave in with a sigh. "Fine. We'll keep him-for now. But understand this; when he gets too big, we're getting rid of him, alright? And if he causes trouble it'll be even sooner."


	2. Cabur the Protector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Respect is earned, honesty is appreciated, love is gained and loyalty is returned."

Boba Fett spooned the porridge into his mouth, mind running over the events of the morning. His father had given him a cubed puzzle for his tenth life-day, and he still hadn't managed to figure it out. He swung his legs, bumping the side of their manticore cub.

It had been three years and Boba had managed to keep his father's urges to get rid of him at bay. He'd named the animal Cabur, Mandalorian for protector. As Jango had predicted, Cabur grew at an astonishing speed, his shoulder muscles filling out and his tail nearly hitting the door frame. His wings, however, were still skeletal in structure, as well as incredibly weak. Cabur often kept them flattened against his flanks so that there were two ridges running up and down either side.

Cabur ate a lot, too. His stomach seemed perpetually empty, and Boba held back a wince every time his father brought up the amount of credits spent on food alone, mumbling that Cabur was a di'kut; a waste of space.

Boba picked up the cube and turned it in a few dozen directions with a frown. His buir often called Boba clever, yet he couldn't see what was clever about a cube defeating him in logic. Boba dropped the cube and pushed back his chair in frustration, making Cabur blink open his eyes and lift his head in curiosity. Boba ignored him, instead going for his room and dropping onto his bunk to read a holobook.

The chime of the doorbell swiftly followed by the sound of claws scraping against metal walls and a low growl prompted Boba to climb out of his bunk and make his way to the entrance, wondering who it could be. Kaminoans never came to their door, and his father was in his room. Maybe it was maintenance...

With a simple hand command Cabur dropped down onto all fours and backed up, his growls instantly ceasing. Jango had insisted on seriously training Cabur in both hand and voice commands, and as such the manticore was the prime example of an obedient animal. Boba opened the door, showing Taun We and a red haired man in deep brown robes. Suspicious, Boba eyed the both of them with apprehension.

"Boba, is your father here?" Boba nodded at Taun We's question. "May we see him?"

"Sure. Cabur, heel." The manticore plodded to Boba's side, who turned around and called out, "Dad! Taun We's here!"

Jango stepped out from his bedroom, instantly suspicious at the sight of the rugged man.

"Welcome back, Jango. Was your trip productive?"

His eyes never leaving the other man, Jango replied, "Fairly."

"This is Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's come to check on our progress."

Eyes narrowed slightly. "That right?"

"Your clones are very impressive. You must be very proud." The Jedi's voice is cautious, yet slightly cold, and Cabur curls his upper lip at the perceived threat to his master, a low rumbling in his chest. The sound draws the gaze of the Jedi, who tilts his head inquisitively.

"Who's this?"

"Just a pet."

Kenobi raises an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that it was legal for an individual to raise."

A long pause. "Must have slipped my mind."

Clearly dissatisfied, Kenobi eyes the half-open bedroom door, where Jango's Mandalorian armor sat in a corner. Jango steps in front of it.

"Ever made your way as far as Coruscant?"

"Once or twice."

"Recently?"

"Possibly..."

"Then you must know Master Sifo-Dyas."

"Boba, close the door." Boba moves to do so, and Jango gives an insincere smile. "Master who?"

"Sifo-Dyas. Isn't he the Jedi who hired you for this job?"

"Never heard of him. I was recruited by a man called Darth Tyrannus on one of the moons of Bogden."

"No? I thought..." Kenobi half turns to the Kaminoan at his side, confused.

"Sifo-Dyas told us to expect him. And he showed up just when your Jedi Master said he would. We have kept the Jedi's involvement a secret until your arrival, just as your Master requested."

"Curious..."

"Do you like your army?" Asks Jango.

"It seems to me it's your army-being that they are all clones of you."

Jango grins at that. "They'll do their job well, I'll guarantee that."

"I look forward to seeing them in action. Thank you for your time, Jango."

"Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi."

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Taun We walked out the door, the green eyes of the manticore following their every move. Jango Fett turns to his son, a frown on his face.

"What is it, Dad?"

"Pack your and Cabur's things. We're leaving."


End file.
